Made a Different Call
by Kat713
Summary: Follows Clint and Natasha when he was sent to kill her and what happened when he brought her back with him. The only canon following explicitly is from the movies but I might throw in some tidbits from the comics. If anyone can think of a cooler title, I'm all ears.
1. Chapter 1

… Clint PoV …

He's been watching her for fifteen days now. He'd followed her from Prague all the way to Moscow more than two thousand kilometers. A tiny beep sounds in his ear. He taps the little button on the com. "Hey, Coulson."

"Hawkeye. What's your status?"  
"Still watching. I think she knows I'm following her. She's skipped town five times since I started tailing her. Won't stay still for more than three days."  
"She's seen you?"

"No. I keep out of sight. She still hasn't found Stark's camera. I attached it when she went to pay the landlord the day she arrived in Nysa. I barely got out the window before the door opened. I don't know if it's habit for her or because of me but she's been sleeping with a knife under her pillow."  
"You watch her sleep?" Maria Hill's voice snapped out at him from several countries and a big ass ocean away. "Pervert."  
"What can I say, Hill? I'd rather watch her sleep than not and wake up to have her gun in my mouth."

"Is she that dangerous?" Coulson asked.  
"She's downright deadly. And we're not the only ones after her. That first night in Prague, two SUVs parked out front. The room was pitch black and I couldn't hear a peep from two doors over. Twelve men went in- two limped out." Coulson whistled.

"You know the plan, Hawkeye. Don't waste time and don't take risks. Do whatever you have to."  
"Yes, ma'am." Coulson chuckled.  
"She's a threat to the initiative, Hawkeye." Hill barked, leaning in towards the mike to amplify her words. "_Eliminate the threat_." He almost yanked the piece from his ringing ear.  
"Fine. I'll move tonight. If you don't hear from me in five hours, you probably need to send someone else." Coulson made an approving noise.

"Five hours? What are you planning to do, take her out to dinner first?" He grit his teeth together. Hill was a hell of a woman, quick as a whip, and a fantastic agent but she was a hard ass sometimes.  
"Hill, she killed ten men without a single shot that first night and left them pilled in the guest room when she left. She knows I'm following her. She sleeps with a knife under her pillow and a gun on the nightstand. I need to get her when she's unprepared. Stop bitching. I'll get it done." He can hear her huff of resignation.

"Good luck, Hawkeye. Coulson out."

He hadn't been quite sure what to expect when Fury gave him this case. He'd just gotten back from a mission in Hat Yai, Thailand, collecting a briefcase he hadn't bothered to open. He hadn't even dropped off his bow and quiver yet, just climbed out of the chopper and dropped into the nearest chair. He'd been eyeing the coffee machine across the room when Fury tossed the folder to him. "Fury."

"Barton. How was Hat Yai?"

"Hot." Fury settles into the chair across from him passing him a mug of coffee. Fury watches him stir packets of cream and sugar into his drink in silence. Clint speaks without looking up, "What is it, Fury?"

"I have a mission for you." Clint catches the edge of the photo that slid out of the folder and slips it out. _Hot damn. _"She's a Russian assassin and is causing us a lot of issues. We need you to neutralize the threat."

"How so?" he asks, thinking of his bow. Fury shrugs.

"Whatever works."

"So what do we know about her?"

"She's known as the Black Widow" Clint's eyebrows arched. "Yeah. She's more than just a spy. We think she was trained by a Russian group similar to SHIELD. She's been at this for at least a decade." Clint looked back to the photo of her. "She's older than she looks. She specializes in close combat and making sure her enemies underestimate her. We've been after her for months. She keeps slipping away from us. I need your eyes on this, Hawkeye." Clint nods.

"When do I leave?"

"We've reason to believe she'll be arriving in Prague two days from now. This won't be an easy mission, Barton. She's good at hiding. If you can get a clean shot, take it, but she likely won't let you. She'll do everything she can to make it on her terms, and no offence, Hawkeye, but her terms usually leave everyone but her dead." He stood, slapping Clint on the shoulder, "Don't underestimate her."


	2. Chapter 2

… Clint PoV …

Hours later, after the sun had set, he crouched at the window for several minutes watching her breathing. The room was dark but he could still see the side of her face and the expanse of her naked back over the sheets. One hand lay under her head, the other under the pillow- _on her knife no doubt. I should do it from here, _he thinks. He imagines the arrow piercing the center of her forehead or her back and knows he can't use the bow for this. She's too young, too good, too careful to kill in her sleep.

He slips his bow over his head and shoulder, the curtain barely shifting as he slides inside. Feet whispering over the hardwood floor, he might've felt like a child sneaking around for a peek at Christmas presents, if the woman wrapped in the bed before him were less lethal. _I'm an idiot. I'm going to get myself killed. _He fingers the knife at his thigh.This was more like lassoing an angry crocodile. As he crept closer, reaching out for the gun on the nightstand, the hair on the back of his beck began to prickle. _Too easy, _he thought. The second his fingertips touched the gun, her body snapped.

The hand under her pillow flashed out, knife held backwards. He wrapped his fingers around the gun just as she slammed the blade into his belly. The blade didn't pierce his knife vest but still hurt like hell. He let out a hoarse grunt and chucked the gun over their heads toward the window, while reaching for her knife hand. She grinned at him, all teeth and malice and shoved the heel of her other hand into his nose. His head whipped back as he slapped her knife hand away.

She brought her knees up, the sheet tangled around her legs and kicked out. He grunted, landing further away than he expected but rolled to his feet easily. She was already off the bed and halfway to her pistol, the sheet sprawled over the floor in her haste. He reacted fast, yanking his own handgun from its holster and leveling it at the back of her head. "Freeze." She stilled immediately at the sound of his voice, her naked back framed by the window, the gun a meter or so from her toes. She slowly raised her hands and looked over her shoulder at him, her face splitting into a wicked smile. It set him on edge.

_She's good, _he thought, keeping the gun trained on her head. He wanted to ignore her body and focus on her face. After all, it's dangerous to leave the other head in charge when in a dark room with a woman who just tried to shank you. But his training told him that he needed to watch her body language carefully. He expected her to make a try for one of the pistols or to even try to make a move on him- he briefly wondered how the hell he'd react to that. She did neither, simply turning to stand before him, hands in the air, smiling and unmoving. "Drop the knife." He still sounded winded and this made her eyes crinkle and her smile grow a bit. She drops the knife. "Kick it over." She did so gracefully. The blade gently bumped the tip of his boot. She rolls her shoulders a bit.

"So. You're the one who has been following me?"

He nodded. "You were damned hard to follow-"

"But not hard enough?" he wonders if there was an innuendo there or if he's just imagining it. She cocks her head. "American. Unusual. You're too good to be with them."

"I'm not. With them." Her eyebrows rise. He doesn't move.

"And you know who I'm talking about?" she asks, condescendingly.

"The men from Nysa." Her eyes narrow. "Twelve went in. Two came out. You left at dawn." Her fingers twitched and he was suddenly very glad he'd revealed that after the knife left her fingers. "Now, I enjoy life as much as the next guy, but I'm not alone. You kill me and hundreds more will be after you." For just a second, she scowls at him dangerously before it quickly washes away. "You are a threat to my organization. I was told to eliminate the threat."

"And yet we stand here."

He nods. "You're good at what you do. Leave this behind and-" she lets out a bark of laughter, throwing her head back.

"And what? Sit in an underground prison for the rest of my life? I'd rather go out fighting." And with that, she threw herself behind the bed, arm snapping out for her gun. He leapt on the bed in a single step and fired. She lay on her back on the crisp white sheets covering the floor, her hand just ghosting over her gun, a fist sized hole in the floor just to the right of her temple. It seemed to him that she was looking at him as a real threat now, for the first time.

"This isn't a come on, Romanov." Her eyelid twitched. He leveled the gun on her face. "I'm an assassin. You've got two choices. You run from here and they will send others to kill you. Or-" her eye twitched again, "you leave the private business. Commit to my organization and work for us."

"And if I refuse?"

"Not even we can force an assassin to do a job. But you would have to start over. Be under our watch, abide by our laws, try not to kill anyone-" she smirked. "and if you betray us, you won't be able to hide."

She said nothing, eyes running over him for a few moments. After several dozen heartbeats he began to feel a little ridiculous with his huge boots crumpling her white sheets, her on her back buck naked. He cleared his throat and her eyes snapped back to his. "I've said my piece and don't really want to shoot a naked woman on her back," her eyebrows rose again, "but I will if I have to. Take your hand off the gun." She complied, but locked her jaw angrily. Her small hand fell over her stomach and for a fleeting second he followed the movement. _God damn. _When he looked back up to her face she was smiling. She'd noticed. He cleared his throat again and stepped off the bed and to the floor, his boots landing beside her pale hip. He noticed her eyes sharply moving up his leg and around the room- assessing her surroundings. His training told him she was looking for ways to escape. His brain reminded him that he reacted the same way when he went to the bar. _She's not so different. She just picked the wrong side. _When he sat down on the bed and lowered his gun slightly, she lifted her head and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "I just asked you to leave the dark side, Romanov. Don't you have any more snide remarks?" her face twitched again. "Or questions?" Her eyes flash to his again. She laid her head back lightly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Romanoff." She said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"I go by Romanoff now." He shrugged.

"The report wasn't very specific."

"Undoubtedly." A small smile played at her lips as she glanced at him. "I assume you cannot tell me the name of this organization of yours?"

"Not yet."

"Yet?" he shrugged

"Your decision."

"Does your organization often send their people on missions like this one?" he laughed.

"You're my first of this kind. So, no. Not often."

"Should I feel flattered?"

"Either that or threatened. Maybe a little of both." Her eyes flicked to the gun in his hands and back to his face. He shrugged again. "Just saying." She nodded slightly.

"You said 'work for you'. What kind of work?"

"That depends on how trustworthy you are. You're a spy and an assassin after all."

"And how do you determine how trustworthy I am?"

"Interviews. Tests. Psychologists. After you clear those they'll send you on a mission."

"What kind of mission?" she asked staring at the ceiling again.

"A small one. It won't be too dangerous or too important. You'll be with another agent. Probably me." Her eyes fly to his. "When we return we'll both give a report. It will be up to me to recommend or oppose your going on another mission…" she noticed his pause and turned her head to face him. His eyes seemed colder than before. "If your loyalty sways I will be ordered to take you down." She almost shivered in the breeze from the window.

"And if it doesn't?"

"If I find you valuable to the mission you'll go on more. They'll become more dangerous, more difficult and more important. After a determined amount of time, you'll be entrusted with your own."

"This doesn't sound rehearsed." His brows lowered in misunderstanding. "Did someone say this to you once?" she noticed his jaw clench.

"A version. I wanted to be a good guy. Wanted to help people." He expected her to scoff but she remains silent. "Got involved in some crime. Got out of my league. I got on the government's radar in a bad way. I was cuffed to a table in an Atlanta police department when they sent an agent in to talk to me. They gave me a way out. A place to live, a job, a way to make a difference."

"And you do make a difference?"

"We do what we can."

"And how can a spy help the good guys?"

"Hey. I said good guys. I never said we play fair." She nods, grinning, staring back up at the ceiling. He waits.

"There's really only two options here that end well for me isn't there?"

"Pretty much." She nods and sits up. His finger tenses on the trigger for a second and she notices.

"I just want to put on some clothes before we leave. You are taking me back to the states, I assume?" he nods and moves to the window. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, his pistol pointed down and watches the streets outside for several moments. He freezes when he notices the man on the roof across from them.

"You expecting company?"

"No, why-" her sentence is cut short as the door slams open and into the dresser she'd just been emptying. Two people make it through the door before she kicks it shut with a crash. He crosses the length of the room, pulling his knife from the sheath on his calf as she kicks one of them, ducking a punch from the other. He sinks his knife into the calf of the closest one, following him to the floor where he slams his head down.

When he looks up she's got her thighs wrapped around the other guys face and with a twist of her hips she sends his face flying at the floor and lands on her feet, arms up, ready for more. He's about to compliment her when the door slams open again and gunfire sounds. Before they even cross the threshold, she has someone's arm twisted backwards and jams her elbow into the bone with a crack. The gun clatters to the floor and as she follows it the butt of a heavy pistol slams into her skull. She slumps the floor as the last man advances on Clint, shouting something in Russian. He holds his hands up in surrender- _live today, fight tomorrow._ And then she moves. Before the Russian has time to turn on her, she's swept his legs out from under him with her own and has a gun at the base of his skull and a knee on his spine. "Who sent you?"

Clint gets to his feet rolling his shoulders and watches the other men. The man she first dropped is reaching for his gun when Barton's foot lands on his fingers. "You'll want to answer the lady. She fights dirty." She pressed the gun barrel further into his skull and he sputtered out a few sentences in Russian. She thanks him before slamming his face into the floor. He knocks out the other two while she gathers their weapons. It's not until he turns to her then that he realizes, she's only wearing jeans and a bra. She smirks at him and goes back to her dresser, stepping over the unconscious men on her floor like she did this everyday- _hell, she probably does_. He clears his throat. "While that's impressive and I'm grateful you didn't let him shoot me, I'll need those weapons." She stills and turns to him, one of their guns dangling from her fingertip.

"Still scared of me, then?" she asks grinning.

"You wish. I just watched you drop 4 armed men without breaking a sweat. Even if I can handle you, I'm trained to be cautious."

"Cautious? Or paranoid?" he shrugs.

"Same thing." Her grin widens and she sets the gun on top of the dresser and backs away, hands up while he collects the guns and knives. She leans against the wall watching him as he fills every knife strap and gun hostler he has and still has two knives tucked into his belt and a gun in each hand.

"Looks as if you're ready to start your own war."

"I might have to if we run into anymore of your old friends." He says, stepping back to the edge of the window while she yanks on a large sweater and shoves everything else into a duffel bag on the floor.

"Am I allowed any of those weapons or will I have to use the ones I was born with if we run into more friends?"

He shoots her a skeptical look and says "Like you really need anything else." But he tosses her a knife anyway. She catches it easily and straps it to her thigh under the oversized sweater. He points to her, allowing the barrel of the gun to swing down to the floor, "I like you, but as soon as we get to my vehicle you'll need to give that up. If you give me any reason to fear you, I will kill you." He expected her to shudder at the threat- he'd never given one like that to a woman. But she didn't even blink.

"Then it's a good thing you're not afraid of me then, hmm?" her smirk was gone but he would bet she was still laughing at him in her head. And then she's pulling on socks and shoes, gathering her laptop bag, duffel, and coat and staring at him. "Shall we?"

"Ladies first." He says, folding his bow up using one hand and his thigh and tucking it in his jacket.

"You just don't want me behind you." She says smiling at him over her shoulder.

"Just move, Romanoff." He says, nudging her in the back with the butt of his gun. She heads to the stairs, surreptitiously watching the doors along the hall. When he closes the door behind them he grabs her arm. "You have anything to cover up with? You kind of stand out." She shrugs into her thick coat, pulling the hood up over her head. As they emerge from the back door, he tosses his arm over her should and leans in close "Play along". She tenses for a second before leaning in to kiss his cheek. He blinks at her once before falling back into character. "There's a sniper on a roof at 3 o'clock. Christ, woman, what did you do to these people?" she shrugs.

"Can't remember." He's pretty sure she's lying but doesn't care. He leads them down the street, one hand over her shoulder, the other on the gun in his pocket. When they reach the old home several blocks away she raises her eyebrows. "I imagined Headquarters would be more impressive."

"Shut up." He tells her, pushing her in and locking the door behind them. He checks the windows and back door before pulling her up the stairs and into the bedroom with him. She hesitates at the doorway, glancing from him to the bed.

"But, I don't even know your name, handsome." She says coyly. He wonders if she's just fucking with him at this point. He rolls his eyes, moving to the window to gather his things. He manages to shove all the files (her files, as it were) into a folder before she notices them. He lays his bow and quiver on the table. She picks it up, lightly. "You any good with this?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." He says, taking it from her to pack away. "The knife?" she hands it to him and he packs it away with his bow. He turns to her, pointing. "Now, sit down, shut up, and try not to give me more reasons to shoot you." He presses a finger to his ear. Coulson answers immediately.

"Hawkeye. Did you finish the job?" Clint sighs, grateful Hill isn't around.

"Didn't go quite as planned, sir. She's good at what she does. I think we could benefit from her… skill set." She flashes him a smile. "I'll vouch for her."

"You plan on telling Nick Fury that you want him to hire the assassin we've been chasing for six months?"

"Sounds about right." Clint imagined Coulson pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know the consequences here. I'll deal with them if it comes to that. Where can we meet you?"

"Passports, a rental car and directions are on their way to you now. They'll be delivered tomorrow by an unrelated party. I hope you know what you're doing, Hawkeye."

"Me too. See you soon."

"So it's my skill set that impresses you so much, huh?" she asks, shrugging out of her heavy coat. He sighs, heavily.

"Look, lady. You're testing my patience. I didn't stay alive this long by being stupid enough to fall into bed with a woman nicknamed Black Widow so you can cut the shit." Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I'm still not one hundred percent certain you aren't going to backstab me and steal off into the night the second I turn away so it isn't going to work." She sits back to watch him evenly and he briefly wonders if she's fantasizing about taking him out with her thighs- damn sure he is, even if he'd never admit it. He shakes his head and sighs. "I'm starving. You eat pizza or just the bodies of your enemies?"

She blinks at him a few times before smirking. "Pizza sounds fantastic." After he dials the number he drops into a chair at the table, propping his leg up on the opposite one.

"So," he says, twirling one of his arrows around his fingers, "where'd you lean to do the gymnastic tricks?" she raises an eyebrow, confused. "You know. The flipping-guys-over-with-nothing-but-your-thighs-thing." She smirks looking away and sighing.

"To be honest, I don't remember." He looks at her, confused. "I've been an acrobat for as long as I can remember. I used to be a ballerina and was in gymnastics too… well… at least I thought so." He holds up a hand.

"Sorry, I'm completely lost." She looks away from him, at the wall and takes a deep breath.

"I suppose your organization will need to know everything about my past?" he nods, "Very well. My memories are blurry, faulty. I can remember my parents and ballet classes and a terrible fire but… one day I woke up after a concussion and had all new memories. I was trained by a secret organization. They did things to make me stronger, make me heal faster and age slower. They deploy each of their agents with false memories to protect themselves. I've never been able to find that organization again. I can't tell which memories are real and which aren't." when she looks back at him, it's kind of a wonder his jaw isn't on the floor.

"My people can help you." She lifts one foot up to rest on the bed, resting her chin on her knee.

"Maybe. But there you go. That's why I'm so good at what I do. I was raised to be what I am. I don't know how to do anything else." He stares at her silently for several long moments.

"My code name is Hawkeye. I ran away to join the circus when I was six." _Oh my god, I'm a fucking idiot. _Her eyes snap back to his. "I was an orphan." _Well, might as well go on and say it now. Can't do much more damage at this point._ "That's where I learned archery."

"This is a harsh field for a circus performer."

"It's a pretty harsh field for a ballerina." She snickers and relaxes a little but when the doorbell rings, she's got her knife in hand. He peeks out the window. "Pizza. It'd be less hassle just to pay the man." She sighs, shaking her head.

"I suppose so." She says, as he follows her down the stairs. She translates for him and pizza boy and then let him nudge her back up the stairs. He thinks she's laughing that the fact that he doesn't like her behind him but doesn't really care.

After finishing a few slices of pizza, she wipes her hands and looks up to him from across the table. "Do you really think your organization will want me?" she asks suddenly. He chokes on his pizza a little.

"You don't go for small talk do you? And yeah. The second they see what you can do they'll want you." He yawns, closing the lid on the pizza box. "Now, I'm getting tired and our tickets out of here will be here in a few hours. Please tell me I don't have to worry about you stabbing me while I'm asleep." She snickers and his eyes narrow. "I'm not joking, Romanoff. I'm risking a lot bringing you back alive. Don't make me regret it." She stares at him for several long seconds before nodding.

"I understand." He nods curtly.

"Good." He strips off his shirt before lying down. She's still sitting at the table, her head resting on her fist. "Aren't you tired?" she nods. "The bed is big enough for us both, if you're interested." Her eyes snap to him and he shrugs. "Up to you." He stares at the ceiling as she pulls off her sweater and shimmies out of her jeans, before pulling on a tank top. She slides in the bed next to him lying on her side facing him. He turns to her. "And don't even think about putting a weapon under your pillow tonight." She nods, staring at him. "You could really confuse a man, you know?"

"How so?"

"I get the feeling you flirt because you're a spy, not because you're interested." Her face remains neutral. "but then you stare at me like that and I can't tell if you're counting the ways you could kill me or wondering what I look like naked." She snorts. He just made the most deadly assassin in the world snort- because he suggested that she might wonder what he looked like under his shorts.

"Would it comfort you to know that it's a little of both?" his brain stalls for a few seconds.

"I'm not sure how I should feel about that." She shrugs.

"Me neither. Good night, Hawkeye." And she rolls over and is asleep almost instantly.


	3. Chapter 3

… Natasha PoV …

She wakes suddenly and completely, like always. She's lying on her side and can feel his arm against her back. She turns to him and isn't really surprised to see he's still asleep. She gently climbs out of the bed and gathers a few things from her bag, heading off to shower. As she washes her hair, she briefly wonders how she would react if he walked in on her. She was naked when she met him after all. It had been a long time since she'd met a spy that impressed her but he had. Following her for as long as he had was an achievement enough. She shrugged. He was certainly attractive enough but he was also dangerous. He hadn't planned to kill her after they talked, not really. If he had, he would have used his bow and she'd likely be dead.

When she exits the bathroom, he's pulling on his boots and checking his weapons. "Ready to bounce this joint?" he asks, slipping his last gun into his jacket pocket. "If anyone asks, we're newlyweds. You're moving back to the states with me. Learn the name on your passport. You'll probably have to translate for me every now and then." He locks the door behind them and tosses his bags in the back seat of the SUV waiting outside. "So. Is it unusual for you to have at least two different parties break into your bedroom and try to kill you or has this just been an eventful two weeks?" he asks pulling onto the road.

"I've had better." He chuckles- "but I've also had worse." He glances at her quickly. She meets his gaze steadily. "I've been doing this for a long time. I haven't made many friends."

"Maybe that will change someday." She shrugs noncommittally. They stop at a grocery store for food and drinks for the road.

After finishing her sandwich she tucks the wrappings into the bag and turns to him. "Are you allowed to tell me where we are going or would you have to kill me first?"

"I'll be honest, I have no idea where the hell I am. I'm just following the GPS. They mentioned it being near Shayera-"

"Sharya. And we are supposed to meet them there?" he nods.

"Yep."

After several hours, she's beginning to get restless. "I can drive, if you'd like." She suggests. He snickers.

"No offence, Hot Sauce, but I'm still going to need a little bit more time to trust you." She narrows her eyes at the nickname but doesn't say anything. The only people who have ever called her nicknames were marks. And they were usually dead not long after that. She watched the landscape around them fondly. She would miss Russia.

"Can you tell me where in America we will be?" he shrugs.

"Changes all the time."

"What about your missions? Can you tell me about those?"

"It's pretty standard military stuff for most folks but I'm a bit special. Every now and then there's a person that needs to be eliminated discretely. I'm the best archer in the world. Do the math."

"Best archer in the world? Don't you think that's a little presumptuous?" he slides a dirty look her way.

"Prove me wrong, and I'll gladly take it back." She leans back in her seat yawning. Her constant running had exhausted her but he seemed perfectly fine. He sat pin straight with both hands on the wheel. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were fixed on the road but she had the feeling he was still watching him out of the corner of his eye. Hawkeye. Huh. She wondered if his eyes had been genetically enhanced somehow. She wouldn't be surprised. There wasn't really much that surprised her these days. Her job- her life- depended on being able to change directions at a moment's notice, to react to any and every situation in the way that ensured the least possible damage, to the plan, to her cover, to herself. "Careful there. Keep staring and you might just miss something interesting." he said, smirking.

They'd arrived. There was a helicopter in the grass before them. Three men stood beside it. The two on either side were obviously her guards- they carried large guns and wore vests. The man between them was in a suit and tie but she recognized the bulge made by his shoulder holster. She was tense as she exited the vehicle. She didn't know what to expect. That was rare. Would they drug her, blindfold her? Did she dare turn her back on them? "Romanoff. Relax. I swear I won't let them shoot you in the back. Trust me." Her eyes snapped to his face. Had she been that apparent? She was slipping. She nodded to him curtly, keeping her face an impassive mask. They opened the back doors and grabbed their bags before walking over to the chopper. She noticed a man already sat at the controls. "Coulson," Hawkeye greeted the man in the middle. He held his hand out to her. "meet Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow." She stared at his hand for another second before clasping it.

"Agent Phil Coulson. Nice to meet you Ms. Romanoff." His grip was strong, confident. Either he hadn't read her file or he wasn't afraid of her. And Agent Coulson didn't seem the type to skim a report. He stepped to the side and gestured to the cabin of the chopper. "Ladies first, ma'am." It set her teeth on edge to have all of them behind her but pushed the feeling away, hauling herself into the vehicle. She shoved her bags under the seat as her eyes scanned the cabin, noting the locations of parachutes and radios, studying the way the pilot handled the controls. Hawkeye and the armed men sat down across from her. Coulson said a few words to the pilot before sticking his finger in his ear. He bowed his head covering one ear to listen better over the chopper blades. He turned to her, grabbing the bar along the ceiling. "You're fine for now, Ms. Romanoff but once we near American airspace we'll have to cover your face to protect our location. I'm sure you understand." Hawkeye's lip twitched up into a slight smirk. "Once we touch down I'll have to cuff you." She simply nodded. If she needed to defend herself, handcuffs wouldn't be much of a hindrance. "Understandable. Thank you, Agent Coulson." he blinked in surprise. Suits always seemed shocked when she was polite. They expected her to be cautious, calculating, cold blooded- not that she wasn't- she just hid it well.

"You'll be given temporary housing on base and will be assigned a guard. You'll be interviewed shortly after you arrive. Hawkeye will remain on base for the next several days to assess your skills and responses. Over time you'll be granted more freedoms, American citizenship, and a new cover if needed. If you become a member of our team you'll receive benefits, compensation and training." She blinked at him. _Too good to be true_, she thought.

"And if I decide not to join your team?" Coulson's jaw stiffened.

"You will be set up in the states with a new identity and citizenship. You will be constantly monitored. You may live as you like but if we have reason to distrust you, you will be taken into custody. If you have become a threat, we will be forced to neutralize that threat." Somehow the words felt much more chilling coming from Agent Coulson's mouth than from Hawkeye's. At least back in Moscow she'd been sure he had intended to kill her. She wasn't sure if Coulson wanted her on his team or wanted her dead. Uncertainly left a bad taste in her mouth. For the rest of the trip she proceeded to imagine various ways she could go about incapacitating the four armed men surrounding her. She'd have to keep the pilot conscious, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to fly this thing. She'd been imagining disarming Coulson and using his own handcuffs on him when he politely cleared his throat. He pulled what looked like a black pillowcase out of his jacket pocket. Her eyebrows rose.

"Always carry that around, do you? Keep it with the cuffs, I suppose?" Across from her, Hawkeye barked out a laugh before feigning a coughing fit. Coulson, to his credit, gave a little chuckle but still turned red. The guards remained stoic.

"Very funny, Ms. Romanoff. Now if you, please." He extended the covering and she bowed her head. He was much gentler than the last man that covered her face. That sack had been burlap and less than an hour after he shoved it over her head, he lay dead at her feet. She listened for the rest of the ride. She'd allowed them to blind her but she could still hear them. She noted the rustle of Coulson's suit. He was restless. The guards remained still as usual. Hawkeye was silent and she had the feeling he was still watching her- judging her reactions. She heard the radio crackle to life as the pilot announced their arrival in American air space. Within seconds she felt them losing altitude. _That was quick._ The base must be on the shore, she realized. Over the sound of the chopper, she could hear the scuttle of activity on the ground outside.

Coulson coughed awkwardly. "Ma'am." she held her wrists out. At the metallic click, she rolled her wrists. Good quality. Getting out of them would be painful. A hand landed on her arm, gently pulling her to her feet. Hawkeye. She recognized the shape of his hand. She rose easily, rolling her shoulders. It was warmer here than in Moscow. "C'mon then. Guests first." he said leading her across the cabin floor. "Step down." he said as he exited the chopper. She stepped down, toes searching. Concrete. Then it's a permanent base. Was that engines she could hear? A secret airport then. Nice. She could hear the ocean close.

"Hawkeye." a sharp female voice barked. "Nice of you to join us again."

"Hill," Hawkeye greeted her. She felt him gesture to her with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her upper arm. "meet Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow." Natasha held her hand out, the cuffs dragging her second hand out too. Hawkeye stifled another laugh. The other woman took her hand tightly, perhaps a little more so than was strictly usual.

"Agent Maria Hill." she said stiffly.

"Ah. Agent Hill." Coulson said, climbing from the helicopter. She hadn't heard them but was sure that her two guards still stood behind her. "Could you let Fury know we've arrived?" She made a small noise of consent before striding off. Natasha almost flashed a grin under the dark hood. It seemed that having a Russian assassin on base made Agent Hill a little antsy. Hawkeye lead her away from the chopper and into the shade of the building. It seemed rather busy and loud for a secret base.

She cataloged each twist and turn they took, recalling how many steps were between doorways and passkey points. Hawkeye pulled out a metal chair, pushed her into it and yanked the cover off her head. She shook her hair out of her face, looking around. Her guards flanked the door, Coulson sat across from her and Hawkeye pulled out a chair to sit between them. She glanced down at the cuffs and back up to Coulson. "Sorry, Ms. Romanoff. They're a necessary precaution." He pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase and folded his hands above it, watching her. "Now. If you could give me a list of your greatest skills, I can make note of them and we'll see which department would benefit the most from your skill set."

She takes a deep, slow breath before starting. "I'm an expert at hand to hand and can accurately shoot any gun I've ever held." he pulls out a pen and notepad, writing it all down. "I can put on any cover and make you believe it's real. I can always find the information I want. I'm a gymnast and have training in karate, judo, aikido and boxing. I can hack several kinds of electronic security." she glances up at the armed men at the door and smiles a little, recalling Hawkeye's words from the day before "I can clear a room full of armed men without breaking a sweat." she'd expected... something. But Coulson just keeps writing and Hawkeye just stares at them wearing a half smile.

"Is that all, Ms Romanoff?" she hesitates for just a second.

"I think, move and heal faster than most. I was biotechnologically enhanced by a secret Russian group." That stalls his pen, if only for a second. "I was taken in by them as a child. My memories of then are blurry, distorted. They release each agent with false memories to protect themselves. I'm not sure what my real name or birthday is. I can't even be sure of how old I am." Coulson gently lays his hand on hers, his fingers rattling the cuffs.

"You won't be forced to work for us. We will still help you in any way we can." Her head drops. She's so tired of wondering what memories are real and which aren't. Can she really trust them to help her? _Why not?_ She asks herself. If they turn on her she could easily escape. She looks up into Coulson's eyes.

"I want on your team." he nods.

"Hawkeye. Please escort Ms Romanoff to her quarters. She is in room 305." Hawkeye rises from his chair easily, running a hand through his hair. He holds the door open for her. The guards follow close behind them.

"I can't take your cuffs off yet but I suppose you don't need me dragging you here and there now, do you?" she shakes her head, watching the people pass her. Most wore some kind of suit, similar to Hawkeye's. They all bore a round eagle emblem. "You should have time to unpack before you meet the director. Someone's already taken your things to your room. Someone will be by shortly with a bite to eat. Do yourself a favor and don't give them a reason to distrust you." With that, he turned on his heel and closed the door between them, one of her guards glaring at her over his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

… Clint PoV …

_I'm dead. Dead and buried. Fury is going to rip me a new one, _he realizes, walking back to the bridge. Fury stands rigid at the computer screens, hands clasped behind his back. Hill stands next to him, pointing at one of the screens. Clint clears his throat. Fury says a few words to Hill before turning around. He looks calm but Clint knows he's pissed. "Hill, Agent Barton and I will be in Interrogation room 14." He says, brushing past Clint without even glancing at him. Feeling a lot like a scorned child, Clint follows him from the bridge and down the hall. Silently, they pull out chairs and sit down across from each other. _Will he fire me over this? Where the hell does that leave me?_ Fury pulls out the notes that Coulson had taken out of a manila folder. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Clint slows his breathing. He liked SHIELD, sure, but there were other places that would hire him. A stab of regret sparks through him. _Romanoff. Oh god, he's going to make me shoot her in cold blood. After I asked her to trust me._ "Barton," Fury said, "I can all but hear your brain going a mile a minute. Slow down and talk to me." Clint took a slow breath and nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"I have to say, Barton, I don't recall saying you were allowed to keep her. I ordered you to eliminate her."

"I made a different call."

"I can damn well see that. _Why?_"

Clint only hesitated for a split second. "She's more use to us alive than dead. She's good at what she does." "She's a spy for hire, Hawkeye." Fury snapped, his voice rising.

"And she was hired by the wrong team. How many SHIELD agents do you know that were girl scouts before they were recruited?"

Fury takes a deep breath, glaring at him. "She's your responsibility, Barton. You train her, you test her, you watch her." Fury raises a finger to his face. "And if she turns on us, you'll be the one to take her down. If she betrays us, you are to kill her, Barton." Clint nods soberly. Fury starts jotting notes down on a piece of paper before him. "I'm taking you off the mission log. You'll train her full time. First, learn what she can do and what she knows. Get her into a training regimen. I want to see her shoot, fight, and hide. Teach her all protocols and drill her on them. I want a psych evaluation every two weeks for the first three months. I will do an evaluation by the end of the week. I expect you both to be mission ready by then. Make it happen, Barton." He tapped his earpiece. "Bring her in Coulson." a few moments later, Coulson arrived followed by Black Widow and five armed men. Fury's eyebrow rose in question.

"Just a precaution, sir." Clint recognized the small smirk at the corner of his mouth. "I heard she can clear a room full of men in a few seconds." Clint stands and holds the chair out for her. She tries to hide it but he catches the quick glare of distrust she sends him before sitting. He sits between her and Fury.

"Leave the guards outside the door, Coulson." Fury says, watching her. She stares right back at him, face emotionless. When the door clicks closed, Fury holds his hand out. "Widow. You've made quite a name for yourself." She doesn't even blink. "I'm Director Fury." She shakes his hand, the cuffs rattling against the metal table between them. "It's nice to finally meet you." She nods.

"And you, Director Fury. But Black Widow is my field name. I go by Natasha Romanoff when I'm off mission."

"And is that your real name?" Fury asks, readying his pen. She shakes her head.

"The earliest name I remember responding to is Natalia Romanova." she blinks and he thinks he sees her mask slip for a second. "But I can't be certain that's my real name." Fury sets his pen down and looks at her for a long moment, pity in his eye. Clint's knee jerk reaction is to warn him. It seems like a monumentally bad idea to let the Black Widow think you pity her.

"You're from Red Room," her mask vanishes, her eyes narrowing and brow tightening. "aren't you?" the room is deathly silent for a second. _Red Room? What the hell is that? _

"I've never- I thought I was the only one who knew about them. They killed anyone else who knew."

"But they never came after you?" Fury asks her. _Pretty sure she could handle them if they tried, Fury, _he thinks. He almost expects her to laugh but her face is back to the unreadable mask.

"They tried."

Fury nods. "The implanted memories?" Clint glances at Fury quickly. _Christ, how much did he leave out of that report?_

"A botched mission gave me a concussion. I passed out with one set of memories. Woke up with another. Took off before they came after me."

"And they don't know you are here?"

"Director Fury, I don't even know where here is." Clint chuckled. _Yeah right._

"Bet you have a good idea though, don't you?" Clint says, watching her and smirking. She glances between Fury and Clint before nodding.

"Let's hear it then." Fury says, settling back in his chair.

"North America, east coast, on the shore. It's an air base but is supposed to be secret." Fury snickers.

"Well, I have to say, you won't be able to see the outside of the base for a few days at least." He said, shuffling his papers together. "We have to be certain of your loyalty before you get more information about our organization. Agent Barton will be in charge of your training. I expect you both to be prepared for any mission I can throw at you in one week." He stood, holding his hand out to her again. She and Clint rose from their seats simultaneously. She shook Fury's hand firmly. He nods to them, turning away. He stops at the door and glances back at Natasha. "Good luck, Ms. Romanoff." She turned to Clint.

"When do we start?"

"Today." She nodded, satisfied. "We'll get patched up in the infirmary." She cut a dark glance his way. "Hey, don't look at me like that. That's the way it goes here. You get back from a mission, you debrief and then go to the infirmary. Lesson one, Widow. Try to keep up." They step through the door and he addresses the guards. "She's with me. If I need you, I'll call." He fishes a key out of his pocket, unlocks her cuffs and tosses them to one of the guards. "Make sure Coulson get's those back." And taking her elbow, he leads her down the hall again.


	5. Chapter 5

… Natasha PoV …

He introduces her to the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Reid and sits on the bed across from her while the doctor pokes and prods at the back of her head. It made her uneasy but his fingers were light and methodical. If she had anyone to fear here, it was more likely to be the man in front of her rather than the one behind her. A nurse comes to check Hawkeye over. He winces when she poked at his nose but she pronounced it unbroken. "Well," Reid said snapping his gloves off, "There's no blood. You've got a hell of a bump though, and probably a headache to match." He gives her a few painkillers for the headache while the nurse across from her gently prods at the large bruises over Hawkeye's ribs. He glared at her and she had to hide a vindictive smirk.

Reid moves to stand beside her with a pen and clipboard asking her questions and taking note of her answers while the nurse poked at Hawkeye. Much sooner than she expected, Reid was shaking her hand again and congratulating them on a mission that ended in no spilt blood -_from us at least_, Natasha amended silently.

"So." she said as they made their way out of the infirmary "Does Agent Barton have a first name?" he smirked. "Clint." she nodded.

"Where to now, then?"

He glanced down at her sweater and jeans. "We're going to do some training. And you don't want to fight in that, do you?"

"Fight? Aren't you afraid to fight me again so soon?" he scoffed "Would Director Fury find it appropriate? Or should I have more time to sufficiently prove my loyalty?"

"Fury knows I can handle you. And you should too." she doesn't miss the glimmer of a challenge in his eyes. "That wasn't a fair fight. I was naked and unarmed." he snorts.

"Unarmed my ass. That didn't stop you from mopping the floor with those men twenty minutes later." she grins, proudly for a moment.

He leads her to a room near what sounds like the shooting range. It's just a little closet filled with shelves stacked full of clothing, uniforms, and vests. "Grab a few of everything in your size and we'll head over to the gym." The gym is huge, with treadmills, weight benches, and other various machines along two of the walls. Three boxing rings ran through the center of the room and there were several smaller matted areas scattered around. There's two soft drink fountains and a few tables and chairs against one wall and the entrances to the locker rooms and showers against the opposite wall. There were a few people on the machines and a few at the tables but it was quiet. When she exits the locker room after changing she notices him on the closest mat, stretching. She joins him silently and they spend several moments doing various stretches.

"So I'm going to have to see what you can do before I can train you." he says standing fluidly. He holds his hand out to help her up and she takes it. "We'll start simple. First with both shoulders on the mats loses." she slides into a defensive stance, arms up. He mimics, grinning. They simply watch each other for a moment before she strikes. He dodges her quickly and slams his hand into her side- open palmed. _He's going easy on me_, she realizes. Her anger only makes her faster. She aims a punch to his jaw, knowing he will block her. When her fist meets his forearm, she wraps her fingers around his arm and uses all her weight to swing him to the left. He knocks her in the jaw pretty hard but she kicks the backs of his knees and then she's riding him to the floor, her thighs whipping up to clamp around his throat. He chokes a bit but is still smiling when she releases him.

"Fuck." he rasps out, "What a way to go." An approving sound escapes her throat as she rises from her knees, rubbing her jaw.

"Noticed you stopped with the open handed hits pretty quickly."

"Mmmm," he says, rubbing his throat, already sliding back into his stance "well now I know better, huh?" she grins at him, showing her teeth. She feels like a wild cat circling a wolf. He comes after her first this time, kicking at her shin. She slides away from the kick but he follows with a hard punch to the shoulder. She rotates with the momentum and when he bear hugs her from behind she slams her head back into his skull. _Oh _fuck_ that was a bad idea. _She's blinded by pain for a second and it's all he needs. Before she can break his hold, she's face first on the mat and he's clutched one of her wrists in each hand far to her sides. He laughs, leaning close to her ear. "Beat that, Princess." Her heart is racing and all her training is screaming to her to do something- attack, threaten, seduce, _something_- but she ignores it and shoves back with one shoulder. He rolls off her, rubbing his forehead.

She takes longer than usual to get to her feet, the pain in her head now throbbing with her heartbeat. He's already in his stance when she falls into hers. He kicks out for her knee- she blocks with the flat of her opposite foot. He falls back into stance, grinning. "Impressive." He steps forward, and she sidesteps to the left. They repeat and then his fist is flying out at her face. She swivels to the right and catches his forearm before he can yank it back. She whirls around, his arm stretched out behind her. He grimaces as her elbow slams into the inside of his. She yanks his arm down to the mat. He punches at her knee but hits her thigh instead when she whips her leg up, the heel of her foot driving into the space between his shoulder blades. He flops heavily to the mat, her bare foot resting gently at the back of his throat. She grins at him.

"You haven't seen impressive yet, Agent Barton." He turns to face her, the stubble on his neck scraping against her foot.

"Apparently." He coughs out. She lifts her foot and holds a hand out to him. His calloused fingers wrap completely around her forearm. His eyes flash victoriously just before his fingers tighten and he jerks down hard. She falls to her knees and he's on his beside her. She rolls to her back just as his clasped hands smash into her sore shoulder. She gasps but it doesn't stop her hands from whipping out to slap against his ears. He grunts, raising a fist to hit her again. Her hands cup under his arms and she yanks up and over her head, slamming her feet into his belly. He's hauled up, over her body and onto his back. She whips her body around, her knees landing on his shoulders, her butt on his chest. The air huffs out of his lungs as she slams her hands over his wrists. He groans and she laughs.

"Truce?" she smirks and stands, rolling her shoulder.

"Gah. Yeah. Probably a good idea." He says, rubbing his neck. "You go for the throat a lot." She shrugs.

"It's a weak point. I was trained to exploit every weakness I find." He rises to his knees and then his feet, rubbing his elbow. They walk to the drink counter, each gently prodding at new bruises. They each grab a cup and fill it with water before turning to sit at one of the nearby tables.

"Alright. We'll go order you a suit after lunch and then do some group sparring." They finished their drinks silently before heading to the cafeteria. He taps his earpiece again. "Hey, Coulson."

"Yes, Barton." She could barely hear Coulson's voice in the quiet hall.

"Do me a favor and round up some sparring buddies for me." He glances over at Natasha, "a dozen at least. Agent Romanoff and I are going to try some group sparing. I'll meet them at the gym in a 30."

"Barton?"

"Hmm?" Clint asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Try not to let her kill you." He laughs.

"In her dreams." He says, smiling at her. She doesn't look at him for fear of letting her grin slip out.

When they reach the buffet at the cafeteria, she grabs a little of everything- there are several things here she's never tried before. "So. Red Room?" he asks, taking a bite of his Salisbury steak. She hesitates a moment before answering.

"My parents died in a fire when I was very young- five or six years old. An agent of Red Room found me. They raised me." she took a sip of her water- her mouth had suddenly become very dry. "They educated me. There were normal classes such as mathematics, history, science and literature… but there were other courses also… weapons training, sabotage techniques, electronic security systems, hand to hand classes. We learned to seduce and lie, kill, track and torture. I didn't leave base for several months at a time. I think I was twelve when I killed for the first time." She noticed Hawkeye's subtle wince before his face blanked. "About three years later I went on my first solo mission. They said I was sixteen when I became an agent. A year later I was on the run from them."

"Ms. Romanoff… I'm grateful you trusted me with this information but this information really should be in your file." She shrugs lightly.

"I understand. Your psychologists will have a great deal of fun trying to understand me." They ate in silence for a bit before Clint set his fork down.

"I had a brother…" Her heart stutters for a second. She's not used to this. Used to men revealing history to her without prompting. "We were in an orphanage before we ran away to join the circus. I had a pretty rough disagreement with him and the man who trained us. We split up. I haven't heard from him in over a decade." And then it occurred to her. _He's trying to comfort me. Telling me that I'm not the only one here who has lost a family. _"He could be dead for all I know…" Without thinking, without planning, her hand reaches out to touch his.

"I'm so sorry, Hawkeye." He gently brushed her knuckles with his thumb, grinning wryly.

"Yeah, well. Didn't want you to feel alone." He says, slapping his hands together. "So." He glanced down at her tray. "You ready to get your suit?"

She nods, standing. She almost does a double take when he leads her to what looks like a small general store. "A lot of our agents don't leave base often. Sometimes you forget to grab an extra toothbrush before leaving home." She nods silently, checking each of the shelves. They contained everything from basic hygienic items to sweets to playing cards and popular books. "Hey, Jeanie." Hawkeye greets the pretty blonde behind the counter. "I'll need a uniform order for a new recruit. Agent Romanoff, meet Jeanie. Jeanie, Agent Romanoff."

"Sure, Agent Barton." She smiles at Natasha brightly, pulling a blue measuring tape from a drawer. "I'll just need to take a few measurements." She hurries around the desk to Natasha's side. She happily shakes her hand before lifting Natasha's arm up daintily, running the tape under it. "Sorry if this tickles, dear." Jeanie looped the tape over Natasha's head and when she drew it loosely over Natasha's breasts, Hawkeye turned away to examine the opposite wall. Jeannie smiled when she noticed this. "The men get so freaked out over this." She proceeded to measure Natasha's waist, hips, inseam, thighs, wrist and fingers, jotting down each number before rolling the tape up. "Well, just specify here if you'd like any of the offered extras and it should arrive in about a week." Natasha checked over the form. Optional extras included gloves (fingerless or not), holsters (for one or two guns), thigh holsters and knife sheaths, a built in bra, reinforced bullet and blade resistant fabrics and assorted pockets (thighs, seat, breast, hips, and ankles). She glanced up at Hawkeye.

"What am I allowed to choose?" his eyebrows arch up.

"Allowed? You can choose whatever you want. You'll have to pay for some of the extras but you'll be able to afford it with your paycheck. That should arrive just before your suit." She nods and turns to the paper. She quickly checks off the things that she likes and hands the paper back to Jeanie. Clint grins at her. "So. I'm looking forward to watching you kick someone else's ass. Mine's still sore. How about you?"

She spends the next two hours wiping the floor with everyone he can throw at her while learning their names. Halfway through Barton had to replace four of them due to a sprained ankle, a pulled hamstring, three broken fingers and a broken nose. She notices when Coulson enters the room but misses what he says to Hawkeye while ducking down to avoid a punch. She kicks out hard, her heel snapping Owens' head back. Kemp punches at her and she wraps her arm around his, jerking back hard. She winces for him when she hears his shoulder pop. His face hits the mat as she hits her knees, rolling to the side just as Langley's clenched fists slam into where her chest was a second ago. She crouches, arms up, blowing the hair out of her eyes. Owens and Kemp are still picking themselves up off the floor, Langley and Pitts are closing in and Meyers is starting to circle behind her. Pitts moves first, kicking at the side of her head. She grabs his calf two handed and swings to the side with all her weight. He crashes into Langley and they both crumple when she releases his leg. She grins in satisfaction for a second before a punch lands hard in her side. She grunts, whirling to the left. Meyers grins at her lopsidedly. She rolls her shoulders, grinning at him and flips her hair to the side. When he runs at her fists ready, she pivots on one foot, shoving her elbow into his gut, slamming her other foot into his knee and bends, vaulting him over her head. She curses when he grabs her arm on the way down, yanking her to her knees. She flips to her back, yanking her knees up. They catch Meyers in the chest and he grunts heavily. She wraps her legs around his neck, locking her ankles and flips to the side hard. She's just risen to her feet, arms up ready for more when she hears it. Clapping. She turns to look behind her. It's Coulson. He's got folders tucked under one arm and a cup of coffee in the other. He smiles at her brightly. "You're going to fit in great here." Behind her Kemp is helping Meyers of the mat.

Hawkeye glances at his watch. "Well, kids, it's getting late." He slaps Pitts on the shoulder when he passes him. "I think it's nearing her bedtime." She glares at him but he just laughs and shrugs. She rubs her neck, turning back to the men behind her.

"You should probably get that checked out." she says to Owens. "I didn't kick you as hard as I could have but it's not that hard to give someone a concussion."

He grunts, rubbing his head. "Could've aimed lower." she shrugs nodding in Clint's direction.

"He told me to give it my all." Coulson laughed again.

"Tomorrow you'll meet with one of our psychologists and do some primary tests."

"Tests?" he nods.

"Just a basic quiz on how you'd react in various situations. We've assigned you permanent lodgings. There will be a camera and a guard placed outside your door for the next few days for security reasons." He turns to Clint. "Room 514. You should know the area." He nods to them both. "I'll see you tomorrow."

They stop at the counter for a cup of water. She looks at the clock on the wall- it's 11pm. The gym looks even more crowded than it was during the day. "Does everyone here work at night and sleep during the day?" Clint snickers into his cup.

"It's really all about when you get back from mission for us. Most everyone else is on a rotating schedule. I'm not entirely sure Coulson sleeps at all though. He's always awake and on top of things." He stretches, yawning. "I wake up at 6am normally." she nods. "We'll go for a run before your psych appointment." There's an armed guard in a steel folding chair sitting outside room 514 when they arrive. The room is small and there's an extra chair and drawers and shelves installed below the bed. Her bags are piled on the center of the bed. "There's a bathroom through that door, he says pointing at the back of the room. You'll probably want to let me see your laptop before you change or anything." he smirks.

"And why would I let you near my laptop, agent Barton?"

"Well you'll have to let our tech department do a sweep of it anyway. Oh, yeah. And I managed to install a video camera back in Nysa." she glares at him, sitting on the bed and pulling the laptop out. The usb that connected her mouse looked slightly different. She pulled in out, turning it over examining it.

"I didn't notice. Congratulations. If I had seen you, I'd have shot you before asking questions." she tosses the camera to him. "You went out the window?" he nods.

"I shimmied around to the wall facing the alley and climbed down the rain spout. I thought for sure you'd come after me."

"I figured someone had bugged the room. That's another reason I left so soon." she nods at the little camera. "Nice tech. Is that usual gear?" he smiles.

"Our tech dept is like Candyland. You'll love it." he slaps his hands on his knees, rising to his feet. "Night, Romanoff."

She saluted slightly. "Good night, Barton."


End file.
